


Whistle from a Phantom Train

by dark_roast



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-25
Updated: 2007-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_roast/pseuds/dark_roast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet written for Kuromatic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whistle from a Phantom Train

"Bela!"

She didn't listen. Of course not. Mighty fuck, that girl ran fast. Speedy like a stray cat with a mouthful of stolen goldfish. Nimbly skipping over tree roots and stones like she could see in the dark. Dean swore, slapping branches out of his face. Ahead, the ground suddenly dipped and the abandoned rail line rose stark and straight in the moonlight. Dean hadn't realized they were so close. Way too close.

When he was ten, he'd ditched school and snuck into _Pet Sematary_. For weeks afterward, he'd had nightmares about stretching, reaching, straining for the back of Sammy's shirt -- and missing. Watching his little brother dash laughing into the street and get creamed by an eighteen-wheeler. Well, right now, Dean would be perfectly happy to quit chasing this brunette bane of his rapidly-shortening existence, not to mention his patience, flop down, and take a breather, and... oh, all right. Goddammit. Okay. Fuck it. That would not make him happy at all.

"BELA!"

This time she did try to stop. She must've heard the difference in his voice, because she grabbed one of the saplings. But the slope was too steep, littered with bits of shale and slippery decaying leaves. The springy tree slithered out of her hands.

Lungs burning, Dean put on an extra burst of speed, and he caught her. They tumbled down the scrubby slope. Dean threw out both arms and both legs and slalomed into a tree. Then Bela fell on him. Ouch. Jesus. He was gonna feel that in the morning. And the afternoon. Probably all week.

They'd thumped to a halt less than a yard and a half from the tracks. So, so close. Almost-dead close. Dean rolled onto his back, heaving, hugging his bruised middle, the backdraft ruffling his short hair. Bela's expensively-highlighted mane whipped around her face as she sat up, raising both hands to shield her face from flying grit. The phantom train rushed past with no clattering wheels and no flashing lights. But as it sped away, it trailed one long, low mournful whistle.

"Every... night," Dean panted. "Eleven... oh-four express."

Her eyes were huge with fright. She looked about twelve years old. "I didn't know."

"Yeah. I figured." Dean pushed himself to a sitting position, and groaned. "You're welcome."

She scrambled up and held out her hand. Dean accepted the help, then he made a big show of patting himself down, checking his jeans and his jacket, making absolutely sure all his belongings were still on his person.

Bela actually had the nerve to look insulted. "Thank you," she snapped, and stomped up the slope.

Dean checked one more time. Just to be sure. Yup. The bruises were worth it. The demon-summoning doubloon that he'd lifted off her when they crashed into the tree, was still tucked safely into his pocket. He grinned and followed her back up the hill.

***


End file.
